Suti and the Broken Staff

by Jerry Dubs

  I looked to the torchbearers and saw that they were lying on the ground. Their fallen torches showed thin, light-brown shadows rising from each of their chests. More arrows.

  Footsteps whispered behind me and hands grabbed my bound arms.

  “Don’t make any noise,” Kebu said, cutting the ropes binding my wrists.

  Gingerly, I reached up to examine my ear. The top of it was hanging from my head, but the bottom half was still tethered to my skull. Leaning forward onto my hands, I crawled toward Mahu’s body.

  Reaching past the police chief, I picked up the bloody knife and then I began to tug at Mahu’s shendyt.

  “We don’t have time for vengeance,” Kebu whispered, squatting beside me and putting a hand on my arm.

  I shrugged free and, leaning forward, my eyes blurred with tears, I cut the linen kilt from Mahu.

  Kebu left me to check on the two fallen Medjay warriors. I saw him cut their throats to ensure that they were dead. Then placing a foot on each unmoving chest in turn, he retrieved his arrows.

  As he worked, I cut Mahu’s kilt into a long strip. Raising the cloth, I wrapped it around my head to hold my ear in place. Kebu knelt beside me and took the ends of the linen strip from my hands. Making sure that the dangling ear was pushed into place, he made two passes around my head and then knotted the linen strip in place.

  “Thank you,” I said, raising a hand to the bandage. “I am sorry that you had to kill them. Did you know them?” I asked, nodding toward the dead men.

  “We must get you back to Waset,” Kebu said. “Can you walk?”

  “Yes,” I said, taking a deep breath, marveling that I was alive.

  ***

  Kebu led me to the river, where we walked south until we were out of sight of the clearing. Then he took my arm and we stepped into the water, wading away from the shore until we were waist deep in the water.

  Then Kebu changed direction and motioned downstream.

  “We will walk downriver now, staying in the water to hide our tracks,” he said.

  We walked in silence for a few minutes until, filled with elation at surviving Mahu’s knife, I said, “I was sure that I was moments from Duat’s gates.”

  When Kebu grunted a response, I said, “You saved my life, Kebu. Thank you.”

  “You aren’t safe yet,” Kebu answered, pausing and motioning for me to be silent.

  I stopped walking and cocked my head, aiming my undamaged ear to the trees behind us. Khonsu had disappeared, leaving only the sound of the river Iteru to help us navigate. While I strained to hear, I watched Kebu closely, trying to read the tension in his eyes.

  After a moment, Kebu touched my arm and said, “We can continue.”

  With Kebu leading, we walked in silence for another minute before I said, “Where are they, Kebu?”

  Kebu shook his head.

  “Don’t talk, sound carries over water. Kyky will have sent men to find us,” he whispered.

  A minute passed with only the sound of the river washing past us. “Are they dead?” I asked, unable to contain myself.

  Kebu grunted a reminder to stay quiet.

  I drew a deep breath, frustrated that the secrets that I had sought for a month were walking ahead of me, carried and guarded still by my silent savior.

  I Can Create The World

  Kebu stopped walking and bent his back to lower his profile.

  Copying the Medjay’s movements, I saw that the sky ahead was less dark. We were near the marketplace of Kerma, where torches burned throughout the night.

  My ear throbbed with a dull ache that deepened to a biting sting, as if teeth of fire were gnawing on my flesh. Although the pain brought tears to my eyes, I welcomed it as a reminder that my ka was still riding in my body in the Two Lands.

  And that I would see Queen Merti again.

  Kebu slid behind a tree and motioned for me to stay behind him.

  “The market is empty, but two of the boats are rocking. We will wait a minute to see if there are Medjay there,” Kebu whispered.

  I wanted to ask Kebu why Medjay warriors would be in the market at night, but kept my tongue still.

  During the walk downriver, the rush of surviving Mahu’s knife had turned into a heightened wonder at the texture of the grass beneath my feet, at the slight moisture of the air, at the coolness that rose from the moving water beside me, at the uniform arc of palm fronds overhead, at the smell of green and of black, at the slight scurrying of night rodents in the brush, at the tiny buzz of insects, at the splash of fish.

  Now, as we waited in the darkness by the market, I thought of how I had pictured Queen Merti’s face as Mahu tortured me.

  I wondered: I called her face to life. Am I now calling this place to life? Is this nothing more than a dream?

  I looked at Kebu’s scarred back, at the curved line of the bow slung over the warrior’s shoulder. I imagined myself holding the bow, nocking an arrow, drawing the string, and sighting on the chest of a living man. I felt the tension in my imaginary arm and the focus in my imaginary eye and the calmness in the illusory mind.

  Blinking away the fantasy, I shivered.

  I can call a different world into existence.

  The thoughts that I had followed while I sat beneath the lone tree in Waset returned to me now: Ma’at is a story shared by all, a common understanding of the world, but each of us calls a different world into existence.

  I pictured the swirling whirlpools I had watched in the river. Each alone, each turning at its own speed, but all of them immersed and eventually dissolving in the same river of time.

  We spin our lives from a shared world, but we each see that world differently — each of us viewing it from within our own swirling vortex of fears and worries and desires.

  A transcendent calm settled over me and I smiled.

  We are both the whirlpool and the creator of the whirlpool. I am both the dreamer and the dream.

  “The market is quiet. Come, we will move along the edge,” Kebu said.

  ***

  Kebu led me along the edge of the open market, his eyes moving constantly as he watched the boats and scanned the stands where merchants or their guards sometimes slept. He paused often to glance at the pathway that led from the market to the forest trail.

  Finally satisfied that the market was empty, Kebu turned to me. “It is safe. Find an empty boat, take it, and follow the river north.”

  “No,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “You must come with me.”

  “I have brought you to Kerma. I can’t go back to the Two Lands,” Kebu said.

  “Tell me what happened at Yehem,” I said.

  “Ask Pentu,” Kebu said.

  “I did,” I said. “He said, ‘A god can be slain, but he cannot die.’ Was Lord Imhotep slain? And what of Queen Menwi?”

  When Kebu looked away, I said, “Lord Imhotep injured a charioteer named Thanuny many years ago. Thanuny became a guard to Queen Satiah. When Lord Imhotep accompanied the army to Canaan, Thanuny followed.”

  I watched Kebu closely. “These things are true,” I said.

  Kebu shrugged.

  “Thanuny had a deformed foot. I found his sandal at Yehem. I believe that it was his body that was left there — I didn’t think to check his feet,” I said.

  Light from the market fought the darkness at the edge of the forest. In the faint light, I saw that Kebu was studying me, gauging my understanding. Lowering my eyes from Kebu’s face, I saw for the first time a braided strap hung from the warrior’s shoulder. Following the strap, I saw that it was tied to a short, thick wooden staff.

  In the thin light, I saw that the staff was carved. As I stared at the staff, trying to discern the shape of the carving, Kebu shifted his weight and the staff swung out of view.

  Looking up at Kebu, I saw the warrior’s eyes quickly shift from me to the space behind me.

  “You are traveling with two charioteers?” Kebu asked.

  “Yes, Pairy and Turo,” I s
aid, turning my attention from the staff, despite the tickling it brought to my memory.

  “They will be in the barracks. Wake them, steal a boat, and flee,” Kebu said, turning to leave.

  I grabbed his arm. “Come with us, Kebu. Return to Pharaoh Thutmose. Tell him where his queen has gone. Has she been taken? Has she fled? Is she dead?”

  “You should hurry. Kyky’s men will be here soon and the governor will not protect you from them,” Kebu said.

  “How far will they go?” I asked, an idea forming.

  Kebu shook his head.

  “How far will the Medjay follow us? They won’t travel beyond the first cataract. They won’t come into the heart of the Two Lands will they?” I asked.

  “If you don’t hurry, they won’t need to,” Kebu said.

  “Come with us as far as the first cataract. You know the land better than we do. Help us get to the first cataract,” I pleaded. “The charioteers are not archers. We would be defenseless against Medjay bows. With your bow you can keep them at a distance.”

  “I will not return to Waset,” Kebu said.

  “Please, Kebu. Go to the barracks and get Pairy and Turo,” I said, pretending that Kebu had agreed to my proposal. “I have things in the palace that I need to retrieve. I will meet you at the river.” Before Kebu could object, I turned and, with one hand holding my half-severed ear in place, I ran toward the palace.

  ***

  I have learned that this is true: I create my own world.

  Oh, I cannot make crocodiles fly, nor can I make a hippopotamus play the harp. But a nudge, a kind word, the touch of a hand, the sharing of food, each of these can redirect the very flow of life.

  It is true!

  Hear me!

  We dig canals and divert the flow of Iteru. We cannot stop the river from flowing, but we can direct it.

  We gather clay from the riverbank. We cannot change it into gold or turquoise, but we can wet it and shape it, persuading it to carry our wines.

  By speaking kindly to Kebu and by turning away as if he had agreed to my plan, I persuaded him to accompany us.

  And so I saved my life.

  And so I imperiled the lives of others, and ended the lives of others.

  And so I learned my horrible secret.

  I Gain Friends

  Entering the palace by a side door, I tiptoed toward Bintanath’s room, turning my head constantly to aim my unbandaged ear in every direction.

  I did not need to worry.

  Dark and quiet, the hallways seemed to be the anteroom to Duat.

  Reaching Bintanath’s room, I paused in the doorway. Turning my head to listen, I heard only her gentle breathing. I slipped into her room, passed her window and approached the table that held her oils.

  Suddenly she sat up.

  I stopped moving and whispered, “Bintanath, forgive me for intruding. I thought I could find useful oils here. Perhaps some honey.”

  “Why are you here, sheut of Suti?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  “Sheut? I am not shadow,” I said. “Why do you say that?”

  “Panehesy told me you are dead,” Bintanath said.

  “No, I am alive, Bintanath,” I said, stopping an arm’s length from the masseuse, so that I would not frighten her. “I was only a few seconds from death, that is true. But I survived. Who is Panehesy? Why does he think I am dead?”

  “He is scribe to Governor Nehi.”

  “Ahh,” I said.

  “He wrote a letter for the governor reporting that your body was found upriver,” she said, reaching out a hand and touching my shoulder, satisfying herself that I had substance.

  “No, I am alive,” I said, realizing that Governor Nehi had had the letter written while I lay bound and unconscious in Mahu’s storeroom.

  I held up the hem of my filthy shendyt. “Look, Bintanath, my shendyt is dirty, just as when we first met. What shadow would walk about in a dirty shendyt? And look,” I knelt before her and presented my bandaged head. “I am injured. I bleed. Sheuts do not bleed.”

  Standing, I turned the side of my face to her. “My ear was partly cut off, Bintanath. I came to your room to find a healing salve and a fresh bandage. Can you help me?”

  “What happened?” she asked, taking my hand and leading me to her cabinet.

  “Mahu captured me and took me to a Medjay camp. He tortured me and said he would kill me. I discovered that he and the Medjays are stealing ivory from the merchants. It was Medjay thieves who killed the boy. Mahu believed that I was sent here to investigate the ivory theft. He insisted that I tell him who had sent me to investigate the ivory theft,” I said. “When I was unable to satisfy him, he began to cut off my ear.”

  Reaching up, I untied the knot that held the bandage in place.

  Bintanath put her hands over mine. “Let me do this,” she said.

  “I found Kebu,” I said, ducking my head as the masseuse began to unwrap the bloody bandage. “He is helping me escape Kerma. We are leaving tonight.”

  Raising my arm, I held a waiting hand by the side of my head as Bintanath started to peel the sticky cloth from my ear.

  The sticky bandage pulled on my ear. I reached up to place some fingers at the top of the ear to hold it is place. “It is almost severed,” I told Bintanath.

  “Let me get some water,” she said, turning away.

  “Did you know about the ivory theft?” I asked her as she moistened a cloth.

  “No,” she said, returning to me and, moving my hand from my ear. She placed the damp cloth over the bandage that had dried on my ear. “But I am not surprised. Governor Nehi loves all things precious.”

  As I clenched my jaw, she said, “It is only water. It will make it easier to remove the bandage.

  After a moment, she lifted the damp cloth from the bandage.

  “Mahu did this?” she said, anger in her voice.

  “Yes,” I said, feeling the water seep into the wound. I focused on the sensation, wondering if my mind was powerful enough to create a world in which the pain that was waking within the cut would remain asleep.

  It wasn’t.

  “He is dead,” I said, my teeth clenched, my eyes watering.

  “You killed Mahu?” Bintanath said.

  “No, Kebu did,” I said, my voice wavering as pain spread in angry waves from the injury. “Has my ear fallen off?”

  “No, I am just wetting the bloody cloth so it will not pull when I remove it,” Bintanath said. “I am sorry it hurts, Suti. I don’t know what to do with it. We should send for a doctor.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t have time. Just clean it as gently as you can. Do you have honey? I am told that helps with cuts.”

  “Hold the wet cloth over your ear,” she said, lifting my hand to the side of my face. “I don’t have honey here, but I can get some.”

  “You won’t get the governor?” I asked.

  “I promise,” Bintanath said.

  ***

  Sitting on Bintanath’s bed, I watched her doorway and wondered what words I could use to persuade Kebu to reveal what had happened to Queen Menwi.

  Hearing two sets of footsteps in the stone hallway, disappointment filled my stomach; despite her promise, the masseuse had gone to the governor.

  I looked around the bedroom for a weapon. There were ceramic bottles and a small clay basin on her dresser, but nothing that looked dangerous. I pretended that I was a warrior, able to see every object as a dangerous weapon, but I failed.

  Standing, I felt a drop trickle down the side of my face. I wiped the drop away and examined it. It was not the dark red of blood, but not clear as water.

  Shaking my head, I looked around the room again, seeing now the window on the far wall. As I tried to figure out how I could climb from the window while holding my ear in place, the footsteps grew louder and then stopped.

  Bintanath had entered the room. Behind her stood a man who was holding a wooden box under his arm, a jar in his hands, and a look of exc
itement on his face. Seeing that the man was not armed, I returned to the bed.

  “This is my friend Panehesy,” Bintanath said. “He had honey.”

  “I was told you were dead,” Panehesy said, approaching me.

  “Panehesy,” Bintanath scolded, taking the jar from his hands and moving to place it on the dresser.

  Her friend leaned to look at me.

  “I am real,” I said, standing awkwardly, my hand still held to my ear.

  “Mahu is dead?” Panehesy asked.

  “I saw his body. This” — I rolled my eyes to the bloody bandage — “is his shendyt. I cut it from him.”

  “Panehesy,” Bintanath said, “bring a lamp over here.”

  ***

  “We are going with you,” Bintanath said as she placed a reed basket on her dresser and began to fill it with ceramic jars containing her massage oils.

  “Thank you, Bintanath, but I can find the docks,” I said, resisting the urge to touch the fresh bandage the masseuse had wrapped around my head after cleaning the wound and applying a paste made of honey and linen lint.

  “No,” she said, “we are leaving Kerma.”

  “No,” I said, “There will be Medjay warriors chasing me.”

  “Then you will need more arms to row,” Panehesy said.

  “Suti,” Bintanath said, placing a stack of linen towels in the basket, “we are not safe here. Panehesy knows that Governor Nehi ordered your death. When the governor learns that you are not dead and have fled to the Two Lands, he will have Panehesy killed to keep his secret. He knows that Panehesy and I are friends, so he will suspect that Panehesy has told me. We are no longer safe here.”

  “We must leave now,” I said.

  “I am taking only my oils,” Bintanath said.

  Panehesy picked up the wooden box he had set on the floor. “I have my desk, brushes, papyrus, and ink.”

  “My bag!” I said, remembering the other reason I had come to the palace.